


Plunge

by acidtonguejenny



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtonguejenny/pseuds/acidtonguejenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He waits until Curtis’s breathing has gone deep and slow above him, before clambering onto the top bunk. The motion is familiar—climbing into Curtis’s bed is nothing new for him.</p>
<p>But tonight is different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plunge

The space is small, but Edgar has a plan. 

Curtis is especially weak to him when he’s tired. 

He waits until they’ve been abed for a while, until Curtis’s breathing has gone deep and slow above him, before clambering onto the top bunk. The motion is familiar—climbing into Curtis’s bed is nothing new for him.

But tonight the plan is different from the usual huddle-against-warm-sleepy-Curtis. Edgar’s hands shake a little as he grasps the rail overhead, and pulls himself up. Nervous. Excited. 

Curtis lies on his side, knees drawn up slightly. Edgar pulls the blanket from his bunk up with him and throws it over them both, before burrowing in against Curtis’s back. He licks his lips, reaches, and slips cold fingers beneath the edge of Curtis’s shirt.

Curtis wakes with a minute jerk, hand instinctively reaching to investigate the chill on his belly. His fingers slide over Edgar’s and tighten around them, but that’s all. Edgar holds his breath, his forehead pressed between Curtis’s shoulder blades, but Curtis doesn’t remove his hand. Possibly Edgar hears an exasperated sigh. It’s hard to tell over his own breathing, which comes faster.

He thinks to speak, say something, but his tongue fumbles the words and he only makes a sound, odd and high against Curtis’s coat. Edgar fidgets, accidentally brings his hips and hardening shaft into contact with Curtis’s thighs. It feels good; he does it again before he can stop himself. His fingertips reach the edge of Curtis’s waistband. The grip on his hand becomes painfully tight.

“Let me,” he says, low, breathless, with a note of pleading. He moves again and again, rubbing himself off. Curtis is warm and hard but yieldingly soft too and it’s _Curtis. “Please.”_

A shuddering, long-drawn breath, and Curtis eases up, so his fingers only rest atop Edgar’s, and they ride the slide of his hand down, down, down. Damp heat and downy flesh. Edgar gasps, moves harder, hitching up so the swell of Curtis’s ass fits into the concave of his hips. Curtis grunts, twitching in Edgar’s hand. His larger, longer fingers fit around Edgar’s, guiding his thumb to the dribbling head.

Edgar rocks harder. He tries to bite, gets himself a mouthful of fabric; coat’s too thick. But it smells like Curtis. He breathes in deep, and comes with a muffled yelp, teeth sawing at old wool. Wetness runs down his leg.

Curtis huffs something that might be a laugh, and Edgar surfaces enough from his daze to realize he’d left off on his kneading. Curtis’s touch graduates from guiding to manipulating, and his hand over Edgar’s tightens once more, and leads him in a long stroke.

Edgar wiggles, stretches up to run his nose through the short hairs at Curtis’s hairline, where his scent is strong and heady. He puts his mouth on Curtis’s nape, absurdly, too shy to kiss the skin there.

Curtis makes a noise, teeth clenched. Edgar takes over again, stroking faster, twisting his wrist a little on the upstroke, until semen drips over his knuckles and wets his palm, and Curtis twitches against his front as he tries to muffle his groans.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of Curtis’s breathing, slightly ragged. Edgar withdraws his hand, rests it on Curtis’s hip.

“Curtis?” He says, low as he can, when he can’t stand it anymore. His nerves buzz.

“Damn kid.” Curtis says, and way his vowels drag makes Edgar shiver. “Go to sleep.”

Edgar grins wildly. “Can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> While browsing iTunes for title ideas, I passed up "Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin'" (Journey), "Love Train" (The O-Jays), and "Love Your Neighbor" (Veggie Tales).
> 
> Also I realize this is nothing new for this fandom but here, have another sex-in-the-bunk fic.


End file.
